Landslide
by samalmightyx
Summary: Peter smiled back and held out his hand, palm up towards her. She didn't hesitate. She took his offered hand and he swept her off into the rain that night to the place they were born and sealed her fate by placing his teeth upon her wrist.
1. He's my brother, and yet, he is not

Summer of 1904

Dallas, Texas

* * *

She woke up in a cold sweat. Her body shivered. For a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Her husband, a man whom she could never bring herself to love, lied peacefully unaware beside her. She could smell the whiskey and cheap perfume on him.

Rain pelted the roof above her, thunder drummed outside the walls, and lightning flashed through the curtains of the window, illuminating the room with fine, white light. She flinched at the brightness.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands shook, and her flesh prickled. She did not know why she had woken up so abruptly. As she willed herself to calm down, she searched her mind for an answer. She didn't get one until another flash of light struck the bedroom, and her sky blue eyes locked onto the scarlet red eyes of a man she vaguely recognized.

He stood over her at her bedside, his body eerily still and silent. He was a mere arm's length away.

A scream nearly tore itself out of her throat had he not placed his frozen hand over her mouth. The choked noise she made was muffled behind his cold palm. He was crouched in front of her now. The index finger of his free hand pressed against his lips in an obvious plea for her silence. A soft 'shh' sounded through the limited space between them. Her eyes flicked to her husband, who continued to sleep like the dead beside her.

Staring at the man in front of her, and her mind went blank. Her body went numb.

She knew this man.

She knew him.

He was her brother, and yet, he was not.

His features were different, sharper than the man whom she once called her brother. His nose was straight again, like he'd never gotten it broken fighting a man in the salon for making a nasty remark about her. His shoulders were broader, not as hunched as she remembered. His jaw sharper. The hair on his cheeks, chin, and upper lip looked much too groomed and not at all like the overgrown, scraggly mess she'd last seen it in.

When he noticed her calming, he smiled at her. His teeth were straight and white and...gleaming. Even in the dark she could see the strange way his teeth shone with an unnatural shine that had her transfixed. Her body trembled as his crimson eyes bore into her, slowly taking in every inch of her face.

"You've grown, Eden" he had said fondly in a nearly silent whisper. She almost didn't hear him over the sound of the storms. Both outdoors and within her.

His voice was even different, no longer the rough and throaty sound it had once been, but smoother and silkier in comparison.

He sounded like her brother, and yet, he did not.

Tears overflowed in her eyes, dripping down her cheeks and rolled over the back of the hand he still held over her mouth. His head tilted the tiniest amount. He looked curious. Unsure.

Not once has he blinked. That fact hadn't escaped her notice, only because she hadn't blinked herself in fear of him disappearing.

Slowly, he removed his hand and brought it up to his face, inspecting the wetness there. Eyeing her tears strangely.

She gasped quietly as he inhaled deeply through his nose, his eyes falling shut.

When he opened them, his red eyes were replaced by pools of black. He licked his lips. She leaned away from him as he drew nearer. His nose was only inches away from hers. He inhaled once again, more deeply than before, and her body froze on it's own accord, without her even telling it to. She felt paralyzed.

At her whimper, he drew away and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He shut his eyes tight, and when a flash of white light flickered throughout the room once again, she'd finally noticed that he was drenched head to toe from the rain. His clothes may have been nice once, but now looked as if he'd been wearing them days if not weeks long.

His lips were moving, but not a single word did she hear. He spoke to himself for a minute, she continued to watch him, unable to think or move.

After a few moments, his eyes opened, and though they were still dark, they weren't alike the pits of darkness they had been only moments ago. They were a deep burgundy red.

She had so many questions. So many things to tell him. She didn't know how to start.

He'd gone missing five years prior, at the age of twenty-two. Everyone told her he must've either left town for good or got himself killed. For a long time she was ashamed to admit that out of the two, she had hoped for the latter, as the former had been more painful to bare in her eyes.

After a long silence, all she could choke out was his name.

"Peter?"

With his strange silky voice, he replied in a soft murmur, "Hello... baby sister."

Her anguish, fear, and confusion gave away to this sudden fiery rage that flared up from the deepest part of her very soul. Like a switch, her body and mind was her's again. Her feelings were in control.

Oh, how she wanted to shoot him right then and there.

He had left her. She was only seventeen years old, with no mother or father to care for her and Peter had left her all alone.

At that moment, while she stared at this stranger who looked and talked just like her brother–and yet, he wasn't–she'd rather he had turned out to be dead. The final truth of his disappearance was kneeled on the floor at her bedside. Betrayal stung, it seeped into her bones as fast as lightning. The pain of it made her want to scream.

Thunder roared on beyond the four walls. Walls that were so elegant in design, and yet, they'd never held the warmth that her old home did. Her home with her brother. The one he left.

She had no choice but to marry when Peter disappeared. She had no money to take care of herself. There was no will left in Peter's or her name that allowed her any ownership of the house she grew up in.

She had wed a man a decade older than her. A selfish man that cared only for looks and money. A man that had no qualms raising a hand to her when she'd been disobedient or simply outspoken. A man who pretended to love her in the eyes of the public, but neglected her in the comfort of his one-hundred acres. A man who had been so angry when it was discovered that his beautiful young wife could not bare any children and reminded her every chance he got what a disappointment of a woman she made. A man that indulged himself every other night at the whore house, only to then come home to fall into bed a drunken heap. A man who held her in his sleep, but not because he loved her, but because he was a possessive bastard. She knew that he was a bad man and would be an even worse husband before marrying him. She'd seen his selfishness, his greediness, and his violent tendencies, even when no one else did. She saw his true self only seconds after looking into his eyes, but no one else wanted her and she was so, so alone.

Peter had left her to that, and as she trembled in front of him while he smiled at her like he'd never gone, she wanted nothing more for him to be dead.

His skin was so cold, Eden noticed again, as his hands wrapped around hers, holding them still so they would not shake.

Her eyes, that glistened with tears of hurt, snapped up to his.

And in his scarlet orbs, she still saw her brother. Her brother that was still so bright and warm underneath dark shadows and snow cold skin.

She couldn't look away from him. The storm still raged on in the heavens, her husband slept on, the racing of her heart finally began to slow. Just a little.

Then he opened his mouth. "Eden," he breathed, so softly. Lovingly. "I've missed you."

The anger left her right then, because, by God, she missed him, too. She thought of him everyday. Prayed to God, begged Him. Please, bring my brother back to me.

She let out a sob and when he opened his arms to her, she wasted no time jumping into them.

"Some said you were dead," Eden cried to her brother, her arms tightening around him, hands clutching his soaked shirt. "Some said you left me."

He didn't want to tell her that they had all been right, it simply wasn't the time to explain. So he only responded by gently saying, "I want to take you away, baby sister. Will you come with me?"

He was asking her for permission. Something he rarely ever did in his life. He used to always say he knew best. He made all the decisions for her growing up, so it goes to show how lost she was when he disappeared. Why she made such bad decisions when he wasn't there to guide her. She nodded her head against him, not fully realizing what she was getting herself into, just knowing that she couldn't bare the thought of being away from him again.

His fingers trailed through her hair and down her back. "I'm gonna take care of you," he promised.

He felt just like her brother, and yet, he did not.

His skin was hard, his body was too still, and his hold on her was nearly painful, but she didn't care. It was still him. Her Peter. She couldn't say how she knew, but she just did. This stranger, this man, who came in the dead of the night, in the middle of a storm, looked and sounded like her brother. There was something in her that said, "don't let me him go." So she wouldn't.

He easily stood with her in his arms, her feet dangling above the ground, her arms wrapped around his neck. She cried into his granite shoulder as he began to walk them out of the bedroom and down the grand staircase that lead to the foyer. He no longer limped like he did before he disappeared, she noticed. His walk was smooth and sturdy and his footsteps made no sound on the hardwood floor. She remembered when he broke his leg from being thrown off their horse and it never healed quite right and she could make out his steps with her eyes closed. For a moment, she thought perhaps she was really just dreaming, as they glided down the grand staircase of the manor. Then she decided quickly that if this was a dream, then she never wanted to wake up.

Maybe if she had cared about her husband, like many wives do, she'd have noticed that Charles wasn't breathing beside her when she woke. If her face hadn't been buried into Peter's neck, she'd seen trails and puddles of blood throughout the house, bodies lying pale and frozen in their path. She would have seen the way Peter walked over them like they weren't there. Like they were nothing.

She only lifted her head when Peter had knocked a lantern over on the way out the front doors, the shattering of glass startling her. When she lifted her head, the carnage was out of view, but she watched over Peter's shoulder as the candle fire followed multiple lines of kerosene, swallowing the foyer in a blinding fiery light.

It was still pouring when he finally set her on her feet, his back towards the house slowly being filled by amber flames. Through every window, she saw the flames burn brighter by the second. Some windows burst from the heat.

No one is screaming.

When she stood there, face blank as she watched her home burn from the inside out. Peter knew right there, that even if she had noticed all the death and blood inside, she wouldn't have cared.

Peter studied her.

Her night dress was soaked within seconds of them stepping outside. Her dark blonde hair hung down to her bellybutton, darkened by the rain. Her feet and ankles were splattered in mud.

She shivered from the cold, but a small smile curled at the corner of her trembling lips. A content little smile that sent a shiver down Peter's spine.

When her eyes turned to him, he realized he'd done the right thing by coming back for her.

Still, to be fair to her, he thought he should try to warn her. Give her a chance to change her mind.

"I ain't the same as I was."

She nodded as if in agreement. She had already come to this conclusion. He's my brother, and yet, he is not.

His brows rose, surprised, but his words were cautious, "You ain't gonna be the same either."

"Will I be like you?" She asked loudly over the rain. Thunder followed her words.

"You'll be better!" Peter answered her with confidence. "Like me, but better." He said to himself.

Her eyes closed.

"Is–Is George really gone? Or is he like you, too?" Her question nearly broke his dead heart.

He understood why she asked, but it was depressing all the same. If one brother can come back from the dead, why not the other?

"He ain't coming back, Sugar." Her breath hitched slightly. Her shoulders deflated in disappointment.

"And Eve? What about Eve?"

Peter remembered Eden the most. Hell, he loved her the most. But that didn't mean he'd forgotten their youngest sibling. "She's happy where she is, Eden. I haven't got the right to take that from her."

"Is that why you're here? Because I ain't happy enough? I wasn't happy the moment you left."

Peter could not help but flinch at that. He'd explain to her soon enough, he told himself. She'll know that he had no choice in the matter. He shook his head and slicked his hair back with one hand. "I would've come sooner," he told her, ignoring her comment to revisit later. "But, it wasn't easy, baby sister. I'm here now, because... well, because it was about damn time. And when I'd seen you, how you were livin', I stopped caring about all the consequences. The fact I'm here at all just means I'm a selfish son of a bitch, Eden."

"Consequences?"

"Consequences of making you like me." Peter elaborated, pointing between them. "It ain't gonna be painless." In more ways than one.

Eden looked hesitant then, finally. She wrapped her arms around herself. Peter wished he could protect her from the cold, but he had no warmth to give her. "Will it be bad, being like you?"

"Oh, it'll be bad alright," he laughed, smiling sardonically. Then his smile softened. Crimson eyes sparkled with anticipation. With hope. With resolution. . "It'll be worth it!" He raised his voice for her to hear. He stepped closer to her. His forehead fell to rest against her's. She closed her eyes again. "I really have missed you, Eden. You've been my happiest memories." It was the truth. The few memories he had kept, she was in all of them. Clearer than anyone else. Her voice the loudest.

"You're my happiest memories, too, Peter." She replied, and his heart soared. He was so worried that his sister would hate him. That she would turn him away like the monster he was. "I–I know you're different. I know you're something dark and dangerous. I can see it in you." He tilted his head at that. "But, your still my brother. I can see that in you, too" she told him passionately. "But, I'm scared. Of you. Of what being like you will mean."

He thought her awfully brave to admit all that.

Peter also thought she was a devastatingly beautiful sight, standing there before him, shivering in the rain and shouting at him over the storm. She looked a little like a drenched cat, but the emotion in her eyes, the power in her voice, was absolutely beautiful.

He would hear her just fine, even if she whispered to him, but she wasn't like him yet, so he shouted, too. He liked it. It felt human. He was already starting to be happier with her beside him. It made his decision to make himself known to her all the more validated.

"I don't know if I can handle much more of this life," she looked passed him, flames reflected in her eyes. A frightened horse sprinted right by her, running from the fire as fast as possible. She hardly even flinched. Before making his move into the house, Peter had let the horses out of the barn, just because he could. Like Eden, he loved the beasts. He hated that they were afraid of him as he was, but he still loved to watch them run.

Peter's sister's gaze switched to the horse and she watched it run for a moment. The horse was hers, but she hadn't ridden the girl in ages. Her husband said she hadn't needed to, because he'd bought a fancy automobile for them to travel in. Only the wealthiest people had them and he liked to show off. He didn't understand that she liked riding for her own enjoyment. Or maybe he did, and that's why he had her stop.

Peter had no problem killing the bastard Eden married, but he wanted to watch his fancy house burn, too. Everyone else he killed had been for fun. He hadn't felt so full in ages. He even felt a bit sloshy from all the blood, not wanting to be wasteful. In his new life, he'd turned a little vindictive and he saw them all as obstacles in the way to his sister's happiness.

Softly, to herself she said, "I'm so empty here."

When Peter woke up after the burn, his first thoughts were revolved around his thirst. When his mind wasn't in such a frenzy, his next thought had been about his sister and the way she was left behind. When it became obvious that he couldn't go near her without hurting her, he had no choice but to stay where he was. He hated being a part of the Southern Vampire Wars, but he hated being apart from his sister even more. For five years he worried about her. For five years he planned on what he'd do when he saw her again.

Initially, he'd only want to check on her, to see if she was doing alright for herself. He wanted closure. Something to ease his guilt. Being a vampire was hard when one still had a human to love.

After five years, he finally had a handle on his thirst and while the Mistress was off camp scouting new recruits, Peter took his chance. He somehow knew it'd be his only one.

The gift of intuition was useful for more than just war strategies. It guided him to his deepest desires. It made every move he made the right one. The best one.

His Sire intercepted him. Asked him where he was going. Peter couldn't fight his Sire's empathetic gift, and ended up telling him the truth. I have a sister. She needs me. I need her. I've been gone long enough. It's time for me to go.

Something in Peter must've gotten through to his Sire, for he stepped aside and told Peter under no circumstance was he to come back or he'd have to kill him.

Peter had never run so fast before, even as a newborn, but he made sure to focus on his gratefulness and his happiness before he went so that his Sire may feel it, too.

Peter had worried when he didn't find Eden at the house they grew up in, but after eavesdropping in on the town life, he knew how to find her after only a few hours. He'd been surprised by the size of the land and the fancy house she lived in.

He'd watched her for almost three days before coming to a conclusion. He swore than even if she didn't want to come with him - be like him - killing that bastard for her would have been enough. But after he drained her husband, and he spent a few minutes watching her as she slept, he knew he couldn't just walk away afterwards, no matter what she said to him.

"Eden, if you agree to this, just know that you'll never be able to get rid of me. " Peter vowed, his arm wrapping around her soft, warm, fragile waist. "I'll be here for you, forever. I'll do my best to protect you. And as long as I walk this Earth, I won't let you be empty ever again."

She looked surprised that he'd heard her previous words, but the shock melted away and she began to smile.

Peter spoke before she could reply, "You were right to say that I'm different. I am dark and I am dangerous. I'm downright evil, Eden. I'm a monster. I do monstrous things. And if you come with me, you're gonna be a monster, too. And there's no turning back. There's no changing your mind after it's done. There's no coming back to this," he told her, nodding his head in the direction behind him. The fire still blazed on, even against the heavy rain. The fire hadn't quite reached the outer walls, so the flames lived on inside, burning the regal furniture and lifeless bodies inside. Expensive portraits, pretentious clothes, fancy dinner plates...the bodies drained of their blood. It'll all be ash by morning.

Eden took a deep breath, a few tears slipped down her face, mixing in with the droplets of rain on her cold cheeks.

"Will we have fun, like we used to?"

He remembered how much they laughed when they were younger.

He let go of her, took a step back and spread his arms out.

"Darlin', we're going to have the most fun in the world!"

Her grin widened. "Do you promise?"

Peter smiled back and held out his hand, palm up towards her. She didn't hesitate.

She took his offered hand and he swept her off into the rain that night to the place they were born and sealed her fate by placing his teeth upon her wrist.

She screamed for three days.


	2. He was no longer cold to touch

Peter's venom gave her a new life.

The fire it ignited in her veins brought her a new beginning.

She burned a little more than three days. It was Peter's fault, as he hadn't yet gotten the hang of changing humans for he had very little practice compared to his Sire. It was fortunate that he had such a large meal before biting her, because his sister's blood would have been fit for vampire kings. He wondered briefly if the deliciousness of one's blood could be hereditary. Did his own blood taste just as divine? At the time, he wondered if he should ever ask Jasper if he saw him again.

A familiar feeling at the height of his spine told him he would certainly get that chance, though he wasn't sure if he'd take it. Peter had gotten the feeling that his Sire often felt regretful after every new batch of newborn's he created. Sorrowful even for the lives he took, only to force them into a never ending war.

When Peter saw him next, it'd probably be best not to bring up their past together. While vampires have near perfect memories with the exception of their human life, it'd be cruel to speak to Jasper about the days they'd existed in New Mexico.

Just like any other change Peter witnessed, Eden screamed and thrashed around through the ordeal. He didn't like seeing her that way, but he stayed by her side the whole time and whispered lovely things in her ear while he sat with her between his legs, her back to his chest to ensure that she was kept from harming herself.

He told her of all the memories he'd kept after his change. The ones of them that made him happiest. One of his favorites was when he took her out to try and teach her how to shoot. It'd been disastrous at first, since she nearly shot off her own foot, but after hours of practice she would've been able to shoot a bee off a flower. The smile she had thrown him after her first successful shot had been the clearest image in his mind after his change. The image he held onto the most.

Though he remembers loving all his younger siblings, Eden held a special place in his heart. After the death of their parents–with Peter and Eden being the two eldest–they became the head of the house, and from that bond they often leaned on each other the most and relied on one another on their hardest days. Watching over George and Eve wasn't exactly easy for Peter and Eden, being so young themselves when their parents passed, but together they would have been able to take over the world if they wanted to.

Peter tried his best to remind her of their life growing up, to make sure she'd remember her roots into her next life, but the burn melts memories away like butter if you don't hold on to them tight enough. They slip through fingers like sand.

Peter couldn't even tell her what their parents' names were, or what color his own eyes had been. He struggled to remember his younger brother's hair color, or his youngest sister's birthday.

But, like many vampires, he'd become somewhat apathetic to many aspects of humanity.

The color of his eyes just didn't compare to the taste of blood. His parents' names could never compare to the speed he could run. Or the strength he wielded. He wasn't human anymore, so he shouldn't care about his human life or the things humans cared about. Part of being a vampire is moving on, forgetting the past, living a new life. This belief didn't stop him from coming back for his sister, but like he'd told Eden...he was a selfish son of a bitch.

Her screaming stopped only a second after her heart did.

With great reluctance on his part, he had detached himself from her in the corner of the room so she didn't feel threatened by him.

With her new eyes, she could make out all the scars he carried, and like many vampires before her, she would have either the urge to attack him or flee from him.

It had shocked him when she did nothing more than stand and stare at him for no less than a few minutes, not a word spoken between them. Neither of them blinked. They hadn't moved an inch. They didn't breathe.

He did note that his baby sister looked awfully confused though. Surely she was thinking hard about what Peter had done to her. What it meant, and how she felt about it. He was relieved that she didn't seem angry though. Yet. Nor did she look as though she'd forgotten much.

The sights and smells and noise around her distracted her for a time at first, but then she was able to really think.

She stood, eerily still, in the corner of her childhood home. A simple shack in comparison to the grand house Peter burnt down to ashes across town nearly four days ago. Nevertheless, the house in which she stood, it had been her home and it brought some more comfort to her whenever her eyes moved spastically around her.

It had been so long since she had been home.

She was safe there, she reckoned. And while she had not visibly shook from the confusion or anxiousness within her, she was very well trembling on the inside as her advanced brain swept through all the information it was receiving. New smells, new sights, new feelings. Everything had been so startling and sensitive. It was hard to comprehend.

Logically she knew that her brother would not hurt her. Yet there was this primal need to get as far away from her brother as possible, for Peter suddenly looked quite threatening on the other side of the room with silvery-white scars adorning his otherwise flawless skin; more threatening than he did even before she had watched him sink his teeth into her wrists.

She refused to let herself run from him, like her instincts told her to. She refused to hurt him that way.

While she thought, Peter took the time to calculate the changes to his dear sister.

She'd become a few inches taller, her curves fuller, her hair brighter and longer. Her hair also had more curl to it, rather than the subtle waves before. While she had an innocent look to her, her facial features were more striking. More womanly, though her round cheeks, pouty lips, and wide eyes could be quite misleading.

An angel with the eyes of a demon.

If it weren't for the tattered night dress she wore and the dried up blood and mud on her porcelain skin, she would be undeniably perfect to the human eye from afar.

Peter didn't actually care what she looked like. He was just glad she was there.

"What am I?" Her hand flew towards her throat, her body turning rigid.

Her voice had been pleasant enough before, but with her change her voice became exceptionally softer and nearly musical. Soothing even to his own ears. He imagined how she'd sound to a human's dulled senses.

Peter laughed, his eyes brightened. Her reactions were endearing, especially compared to the usual frantic and chaotic way he was used to.

"Well, baby sister, you're like me."

She rolled her pretty ruby eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. Peter wondered if she knew how fast she moved. To her, it'd felt natural. Normal even. To a human, it'd certainly look unusual moving an eighth of a second faster than them.

"And what exactly are we, Peter?"

With some hesitance, Peter drawled with a smirk on his lips, "Vampires."

He'd been insulted by her laugh at first and it certainly showed on his face.

"Feel that burn in your throat?" Peter was ashamed that he felt smug when her hands flew to her throat. "That's means you're thirsty. And water just ain't gonna cut it. Blood is what you need. It's what we survive on."

"Blood?"

Her hand clutched her throat tighter, crimson eyes wide.

She hadn't expected this, though she really should have considering everything she had been through since waking up to her elder brother standing over her during the storm. The brother that she had thought to have been dead or at the very least on the other side of the country, never to be seen again. From his marble skin, to his scarlet iris', and his deadly bite upon her flesh...she really ought to have been able to guess just what the hell he was. Because he certainly wasn't human. That was clear from the moment she saw him.

However, she was so happy about Peter coming back for her, she couldn't have cared any less about the how or the why. She just knew she could trust him.

Blood. She has to drink blood.

Her scattered mind went momentarily blank, for just a moment. Then with sudden clarity, Eden realized that Peter had turned her into some kind of monster.

Peter saw the understanding through her eyes.

When Peter's own newborn craze began to wane, he'd realized to the full extent what being a vampire would mean for him. And he didn't like the thought of killing people either, but it's in his nature and as long as he could keep himself from slaughtering a whole town, he learnt to make peace with what he was.

He made a point to stay away from the young and innocent though.

The night he changed Eden had been his one exception since he gained more control of his feedings. One of Eden's maids had been a few years younger than his sister, but it was a fact Peter had to ignore.

The idea was to kill his sister in the eyes of the public, because being married to such a rich individual, she couldn't simply disappear like he did.

And he couldn't just set a fire with her husband as the only victim. Many of the maids, cooks, or farm hands surely would be quick enough to try to save the bastard and his sister. Killing them all and setting the house on fire had been admittedly quite lazy on his part, but it was the quickest and easiest way to ensure that Eden and her husband would be concluded as dead. No witnesses, no hero attempts, no search parties.

Surely he could have found another way with less casualties involved, but after five years of waiting to see her, and then finding out how unhappy she was with her life regardless of her husband's riches...well, even as a human, Peter hadn't been all that patient so it was only natural for him to find the quickest solution.

"Peter, I-I don't want-"

I don't want to drink blood. I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to be a monster.

He knew what she was trying to say, so he told her what she needed to hear, "It's the only way."

And just like that, she accepted it. Because Peter wouldn't lie to her.

"It's gonna be alright," her brother added when she hadn't replied.

Peter would take care of her.

"Come on," he held his hand out to her. "Let's get you fed, baby sister."

When she flew across the room in an uncontrollable burst of speed and crashed into him hard enough to throw them against the wall and leave a human-sized dent, his arms were there to catch her. His feet sank into the wood floors in an effort to stop the momentum. He was ankle deep into the floorboards, but he was laughing and smiling and he was so, so happy.

His laughter shook both of their bodies. His arms were wrapped around her, and his chin rested on her head.

He was no longer cold to touch, nor did he feel like stone.

They were the same temperature. Her body was built like his.

She smiled into his shoulder as she snaked her arms around his middle.

She was like him.


End file.
